Five subway trains had stopped, disgorged and consumed meals of commuters and tourists then eased their silent weight into the westbound tunnel, vanishing like wraiths. Sounds of the sixth train echoed its arrival. However, the blast of warm air, pushed in front, went unnoticed. Mr. Derby Lough sat tucked in his herringbone coat and gloves, now and then hovering a hand over the cardboard box sitting next to him on the bench. The size and weight of a hearty loaf of bread—the kind with seeds that his wife said was ‘so much more healthy’—the box had his name and address printed in the corner, even though he’d had to pick it up in person. His hand hovered again. It came close, but never touched its surface.
“Hey, wasn’t you in that same spot, lease two hours ago?”
Mr. Lough placed his hand in his lap and tilted his head up…
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